


Everything Comes Back To You

by Vanilla_Ella



Category: Bandom, Twenty One Pilots
Genre: Angst, Breakups, F/M, Gen, Heavy Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, Moody tyler, Sad Josh, i love jenna, just so you know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-18
Updated: 2017-04-29
Packaged: 2018-09-25 09:54:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9814169
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vanilla_Ella/pseuds/Vanilla_Ella
Summary: "Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off by myself," Tyler mumbles quietly, almost sadly.





	1. Chapter Øne

**Author's Note:**

> Hello frens!
> 
> First can I just rant on how many TØP thing shave been happening?!? First music vid, then concerts then Grammys, then Tyler giving Josh a rose on stage on Valentine's Day!! Aww I'm just exploding from feels!
> 
> Ok...sorry about that.
> 
> I know I'm supposed to update The Light Behind Your Eyes, but I'm still working out a few things and this idea has been stuck in my mind for so long that I need to write it out, I'm sorry! Please bear with me! 
> 
> Without further ado, please enjoy!

Tyler gets his moods sometimes when they're on the road.

Josh knows that.

Some days, he'll just wake up snappy. Some days, he'll be whiny and demanding, and others, he just wants to be left alone.

It's the last type of days that make him the most dangerous.

It's those days when he sits in his small bed or on the couch they have on the tour bus, furiously scrawling down lyrics and thoughts into his journal with messy ink.

Josh knows it's best to leave him be during those times, but he's been sitting there for hours, with nothing but a protein bar for the whole day, and they still have a show they need to perform a soundcheck for. 

It's common knowledge: poke a bear with a stick and it'll come running after you, but Josh does it anyway, albeit nervously, first clearing his throat as he approaches his best friend, hands twiddling nervously.

"Umm..Ty?"

Tyler slowly lifts his head, eyes narrowed in a silent way to say 'can't you see I'm busy?' and Josh can't help but feel his anxiety flood in.

"We...we have soundcheck, remember?"

Tyler stares for a while, unnerving Josh to no end, before closing his journal shut with one slamming motion, standing from the couch and stomping past him out into the world.

Josh tries to tell himself that it's alright; he knows Tyler needs to be moody in order to have good days (the sun can't shine all the time, now can it?) so he tries not to be bothered by the cold shoulder, walks into the arena and follows his friend.

He notes how snappy Tyler is, quick to remark when something's wrong, whether it be the lights, the sound, or Josh's drumming.

The drummer tries to smile the whole time, thanks the venue workers for their patience, but it's exhausting, especially whenever Tyler glares at him for messing up a beat.

Which really isn't his fault; how is he supposed to play well when it seems like the one person who should be trying to help him is rooting for his failure?

Throughout the day, Josh tries to count his blessings. At least they didn't have to play a show; he couldn't imagine going through that with Tyler acting like a five year old. 

But it progressively (like everything else that day) gets harder and harder, as he was by his side for nearly the rest of the day without either of them really wanting to be. At dinner, he found himself knocking heavily on the wall beside Tyler's bed.

"Come on, you have to eat something," he sighs, frowning when Tyler simply answer "No, I don't."

After a moment of sentences likened to those first two passing back and forth, Josh is fed up, and he's dragging the curtain open, grabbing his friend by the shirt and dragging him out.

Tyler screeches and tries to kick him as he carries the taller boy over his shoulder, and he's able to knee Josh in the groin once, forcing the drummer to drop him and crumple up in pain on the floor.

He hears Tyler get up off the floor, hastily running away and into the bathroom where there's a lock on the door.

Tears of frustration and anger well up in the yellow-headed boy, but he tries not to cry, picks himself up off the floor despite the sharp pain in his injured area, and collapses on the couch.

He sits there and looks at his phone as a distraction, hoping his games would take his mind off the physical and mental abuse he's going through.

When people ask where Tyler is, he's forced to answer for his friend, especially with the fact that Tyler probably wouldn't talk to them on his own. It's tiring, and Josh finds himself counting the seconds until the horrible day comes to an end.

When it does, Josh is completely worn, having been the reluctant mediator between his best friend and everyone else that day who was unlucky enough to encounter Tyler Joseph. 

He's exhausted as he lies in his bed, eyelids heavy as he begins drifting.

It's the soft voice under the bed that keeps him awake, though.

He's eavesdropped on his friends' conversations multiple times, even without meaning to. It just came with touring life, especially when someone slept directly under him.

This is the one time where he truly regrets doing so.

"I don't know, Jenna," Tyler sighs, and Josh can hear him run his palm over the bottom half of his face like he does when he's upset. "It's just.."

There's a pause.

"I know, I love him," he groans. "He's great and really sweet, and I don't think I could have had a better friend to be doing this with, but some days, I wish Josh wasn't around."

The hot, white slash of a knife is unwelcome yet blazing through the drummer's heart, Josh's breath caught in his throat.

He swears he hears his heart plummeting.

"Sometimes I wonder if I would be better off by myself," Tyler mumbles quietly, almost sadly.

Josh wraps the pillow under his head around ears with shaking hands, and he's unable to hear Jenna berate him for implying something like that, to which Tyler responds with an "I know, I know, I'm sorry," but the damage is already done.

Tears burn in Josh's eyes, and at that moment, he wants to scream, run out, break down on the pavement, do something before he explodes with all the hurt building up in his body.

He always knew this day would come.

The day his best friend, his constant everything, would realize how unnecessary he was. 

He bites his hand to muffle his sobs when they finally come out hours later following the simple yet painful shock, thankful to hear Tyler's deep and even breathing, signifying that he was asleep.

In the dead of the night, he cries.


	2. Chapter Twø

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi frens! 
> 
> Thank you for waiting; here's another installment!
> 
> Hope you enjoy ^^

When Tyler wakes up the next morning, he's normal.

Josh can hear him out in their small kitchen, pouring cereal, cracking sarcastic jokes with Mark and he can hear his laughter and even his smiles.

He rubs his tired eyes, sits up. He's still exhausted, having gotten no sleep due to the fact that he was kept awake by his tears. 

Right there at that moment, he decides to take one step forward in convincing Tyler to keep him around.

I have to avoid him.

It's the thought of him doing that that makes his heart heavy, and he feels like his head is full of lead as he drops it in his hands, breathing deeply as he tries not to get a panic attack.

How pathetic did he have to be to drive himself into a hyperventilating state of panic at the thought of taking the most reasonable course of action, he wonder angrily as he tries to steady his frantic thoughts.

He hadn't avoided his best friend, ever. They were always stuck hip to hip most of the time, and even when they fought, it was always only a matter of hours before one or the other apologized.

His eyes mist over as he thinks of the times when he thought he had nothing, the times when he was so low to the ground that it wouldn't hurt if he just dropped, but he realizes that he'd always had Tyler.

What was he going to do now?

He gets out after a few minutes, trudges tiredly over to the kitchen with his raw heart. He doesn't meet anyone's eyes, doesn't look up despite feeling the holes being bored into his back by Tyler's eyes.

"Hey, Josh," Tyler says, sounding his normal bright happy self. 

It makes Josh's heart ache to pretend he didn't hear him as he takes a bowl in his shaky hands, pours cereal and milk into it.

When Tyler looks at Mark worriedly, the latter shrugs from the couch in a 'maybe he didn't hear you' kind of way.

Tyler frowns, repeats himself a little louder, noting how Josh keeps his eyes on the counter.

"Hi," Josh says quietly, still staring at his bowl and shoveling cereal into his mouth hurriedly, not wanting to be around Tyler for longer than necessary. 

It already hurts before he even gets up to leave.

 

•••••••

 

Josh is getting good at avoiding Tyler, he thinks.

Whenever they're on long drives to their next city, Josh will stay in his bed and stare at his phone, trying to entertain himself with something, anything to keep him from going crazy.

It's hard at first, not having the freedoms to wander around the bus like he used to. But the thought of annoying his best friend or pushing him over the brink by being around keeps him grounded in his bed, despite his sad loneliness.

To make everything worse, Tyler never fails to swing by every couple of hours, offering to play a video game with him or something. It's just like before, such an achingly familiar, sweet gesture that it makes Josh tear up whenever he thinks about it.

Now, he sees it as a test. He sees it as Tyler wondering if he'll take the bait, if he'll be stupid enough to agree. 

So he always turns him down.

It gets to the point of him not even going out to eat with the crew and his best friend whenever they are able to stop somewhere, to where he'll literally turn and run whenever Tyler comes walking down the halls of the venues. 

He'd only started going as far as to hiding in his dressing room whenever Tyler knocks and asks to let him in, staying cramped up and curled in a ball in the closet until Tyler leaves with a disgruntled sigh. That begins when, one time, Tyler catches him off guard, and enters his room. 

He's talking about something out of pocket, about how Mark accidentally ran into him and spilled water all over his red suit in one of the hallways.

He's wearing his simple white button up and his red pants, speaking about how he so desperately hopes it dries before the show as he paces around the room, looks and pokes around Josh's stuff like normal.

Despite everything he's saying, Josh can't really process anything he's saying due to the fact that he's panicking internally like no tomorrow.

It'd been so long since he and Tyler had been alone in a room together, with no one there to take the edge off the situation if things got quiet or a little awkward with how desperate Josh seemed to wish to disappear. 

Because of this, he simply freezes and tenses as Tyler plants himself on the couch beside him, now talking about how many people are camped outside waiting for the show.

He keeps his eyes glued to his lap, tapping a nervous beat on his thighs with his hands as a distraction, nodding and humming to whatever Tyler said whenever it was appropriate.

It takes a while for him to realize that Tyler had stopped talking, but still, he keeps his eyes down, continues tapping, waits for Tyler to either continue speaking or, more preferably, stand up to leave.

Neither happen.

 

•••••••

 

He's not looking at me.

It's a thought that comes flying into Tyler's head at an alarming rate, shocking him into a burning kind of sadness he can't describe.

He continues to stare at the cause of his pain though, watches Josh blink blankly at his legs, silently tapping away.

Why won't he look at me anymore? 

He misses those warm, brown eyes, the lights he's so fascinated with that dance and swirl in his deep coffee orbs, reflecting the utmost innocence and sweetness of his kind soul.

Now that Tyler thinks about it, this is the only time he's seen Josh a few hours before the show, having barged into his best friend's dressing room unannounced.

It seems to get harder and harder to pin Josh down, get some time with him, and finds himself missing his best friend more and more these past days.

You'd be crazy if you thought Tyler didn't notice, didn't pick up on the fact that Josh now shuffles awkwardly and quietly past him in venues or after shows, one or two-worded answers the only thing being said by his usually more talkative friend. 

All of its unnatural, and strange, working Tyler up the more he thinks about it.

"You okay, man?" Tyler finally inquires, lightly bumping his shoulder against his drummer's in a friendly manner.

Josh glances at him, looks away just as quickly, inflating Tyler with hope and deflating him with despair in the matter of seconds. "Yeah," he answers, soft.

Insincere.

Something's off.

Somethings so different, with how sad and bleak Josh's usually lively smiles used to be, how dimmed the happiness is.

Tyler almost takes Josh's hand, but instead, he stands, deciding that maybe his friend needed a little alone time, and walks out, saying "Make sure you get ready for the show soon."

He hears Josh sigh when he leaves, closes the door. 

He presses his forehead against it, stares blankly at the dark wood, standing still as the world spins around him.

Water's washing in and taking away his best friend, and Tyler doesn't know what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh...Tyler doesn't realize and doesn't know how much words can hurt, even if it was just venting and said in the heat of the moment. 
> 
> Please drop kudos and/or a review! I'd really like it hear what you have to say, thank you!
> 
> Hopefully I'll get another update out by Wednesday, so until then, I'll see you all!
> 
> |-/ Stay alive.
> 
> Not just today, but tomorrow too.


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update when I was supposed to...I got sick.
> 
> Anyways I'm better now! Thank you for waiting!

"Come on, you have to eat something."

"No, I don't."

Tyler growls in frustration, shaking with his irritation and his hurt pride. He knows if he stays there for any longer, he won't be able to control himself, and he might do something drastic like try to drag Josh out of his bed, and as attractive as that seemed at the moment, Tyler was too tired to continue begging for his friend to get out of bed and join them for lunch.

What on earth could Josh be doing that kept him locked away in his bed all the time?

The singer rolls his eyes, shakes his head, pretends it's just irritation and not worry, as he walks out back into the main part of the bus.

He sits on the couch, mood more dark and grouchy than he'd like to admit, as he unwraps his burrito with jerky, angry movements.

"Josh isn't eating with us?" Michael asks.

"What do you think?" Tyler snaps, keeping his glare directed towards his food in fear of frying someone with his heated glances.

"I hope he's okay," Ben says, voice ever soft and hopeful, and though it should calm Tyler, it does the absolute opposite.

"No, he's not!" he says (shouts), standing up and twitching with anger. "I have no idea what's wrong with him and it's driving me crazy!"

With that, he turns on his heel, appetite even more non-existent than it had been before, storming out of the bus.

The sun that shines in the sky blinds him, and he throws an arm over his eyes, glaring at the sunlight and the birds for shining and chirping like everything was normal.

He walks into the park they stopped the bus by, into a large patch of uncut grass just beside a small lake. 

He's kicking stones and cursing under his breath, fully aware that he's acting like a five year old throwing a tantrum, but he can't stop himself.

If he's not angry, he's worried.

He doesn't want to be worried, although it's a little late to try and regulate his feelings. 

Thoughts of Josh and his recent, distant behavior perplexes Tyler and sets him on edge, but it's all he can think about as he walks in the warm sunlight.

"What's wrong with you?" he mutters. "Why are you acting like this?"

The breeze blowing through the trees is all that answers him, the snaps and crunches of the small twigs under his feet all he can hear.

Other than that, the silence drives him crazy.

He's dialing a number on his phone before he knows it.

"Hello?" Jordan's voice is bright and happy, as usual, unaware of the thoughts burning in Tyler's brain.

"I don't know what's wrong," Tyler blurts, not really one to do the whole 'hello, how are you' thing when he's upset, and he collapses into the grass in defeat. "I don't know what I'm supposed to do."

"What's wrong?" 

"Your brother..." Tyler pauses, picks a blade of grass between his fingers and rolls it absentmindedly as he tries to find the right words. The grass against his neck itches, but he remains lied in that spot. "Somethings...different."

"Is he okay?" The panic in the younger brunet's voice is evident through the ripples of sounds.

'Is he?'

The question makes Tyler stop breathing when he realizes he doesn't have the answer. "I..I don't know."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hoped you liked it! I promise I'll update later in the day or tomorrow at the very latest! 
> 
> Please leave a review or kudos if you enjoyed, they give me purpose <3
> 
> |-/ Stay safe. Stay alive.


	4. Chapter Four

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello frens! I hope I can lessen the mundane Monday blues with an update. Thank you for waiting, and for all the sweet reviews on this story! It means the world to me!

Josh's favorite part of the show is the ending.

He's able to stop acting, stop pretending that everything's normal and okay. He knows that's the least he owes the fans who come out (who wanted to see a stiff, awkward performance?) and he's always relieved when the whole ordeal washes over.

But that's not the only reason he likes the ending.

It's a secret, one of Josh's darkest, most inmost pleasures, but when he has an excuse to press up against Tyler's side during the encore, wrap an arm around his best friend he hasn't touched in weeks (outside of concerts), those moments are all Josh is holding onto, all he's craving.

Tyler always joked about him being touch starved all the time, probably due to the fact that he hasn't had a girlfriend in almost two years, but it's in Josh's nature.

He needs affection.

He lives on it, breathes it.

Quitting Tyler's hugs and cuddles cold turkey definitely had a negative affect on him, as he found himself clutching onto a pillow at nights more often than not, even purchasing a heating pad at a pharmacy to turn on and stuff into his pillow, mimicking a warm body to help lull him to sleep.

It's not the best substitute by any means, and pathetically enough, he finds himself crashing his body onto the couch beside the band's tour manager and his friend, one very, very late night while they drive to the next city. He lets out a heavy sigh, rubs his tired eyes.

"You okay?"

Josh hates that question. It's all he ever hears now.

It's like no one hears him screaming underwater.

Instead of lying as usual, he shrugs tiredly, frustratedly. He wishes he could just fall asleep on command, wishes he didn't need loving touches. 

He guesses his 'manliness' is degraded by his need, but he doesn't care. Not an ounce.

He's leaning into his friend before he knows it, literally collapsing into his side. He's warm, much larger than the drummer, and luckily for him, Michael's always been a good friend, wrapping a heavy arm around him.

"What's wrong, Josh?" he asks, and Josh notes the worry in his voice.

Josh blames his exhaustion, his need for touch, the lateness of night. He blames his stress and his anxiety, the loneliness that eats him away, that fills eyes with tears.

He can't help but let out a shaky sob, turning a pressing himself fully against his friend. 

"We're worried about you, Josh..."

Something breaks.

"It's just..." Josh gasps, and all he wants is to be heard. "It--it h-hurts."

"I know," Michael says quietly, and it's not patronizing or condescending, as he rubs Josh's back gently, waits for him to continue patiently.

His few heavy sobs turn into shuddering breaths in the span of a few minutes, and Josh feels guilt set in as he realizes how loud he probably was, how many tears he'd spilled on his friend's black shirt. He pulls back with a sigh, rubbing his eyes.

"Talk to me," he pleads gently, voice lowered as to not wake up their other tour mates. "Please."

"I--its just," Josh sniffles, rubs the back of his hand across his nose, keeping his eyes on the floor before the mere sight of a sympathetic face bursts him again. "Tyler...he's..."

"Worried about you?" Michael suggests tentatively, and the drummer narrows his eyes.

"No..no," he shakes his head, and a confused, heartbroken laugh bubbles over.

Tyler worried about him.

The idea, only until recently, had never been so laughable. 

"He--" Josh sucks in a breath, chokes as he tries not to sob again. "He hates me."

"What? Josh--"

"No," Josh turns sharply, glares at him, despite the way his voice cracks in misery whenever he speaks. "Don't you dare. Don't you dare suggest that you know how he feels."

Michael is quiet, stares at him for a while with concern blazing in his eyes. 

"How do you know?" he finally asks.

Josh lets out a pitiful laugh/sob in response, eyes welling with liquid that's hastily wiped away. Even the memory is enough to break Josh's heart all over again.

Tyler's words ring clearly in his ears. 

"He wishes I wasn't around," he mumbles, as if he distorted his words enough he would be less affected by them. "He knows he'd be better off without me."

"When'd he say this?" The surprise and disbelief colors in Michael's words. 

"I h-heard him," Josh whispers. He stares emptily at the wall opposite of him, hoping to God he could just keep it together. 

A pitiful whimper leaves his lips though, as he hears Tyler's words ring throughout his head on repeat. 

"He hates me," is all he can say and think, as Michael pulls him back into his arms, holds him tightly. 

"I'm gonna kill him," Michael sighs exasperatedly on the top of his head.

"Don't tell him I know, please," Josh pleads, physically cringing in terror at the thought of Tyler finding out.

"Josh, why the hell not?" Michael scoffs, and the drummer can feel him shake his head above him. "Nothing's gonna get fixed--"

"It's not gonna get fixed if he knows, it doesn't matter," Josh hiccups and pulls away, vision blurred. He rubs his eyes. "Don't tell him. Please."

Michael sighs. "Josh..."

"Please!" the drummer snaps, looking up angrily at his friend, before he melts again within the matter of seconds. "Please, don't."

Michael groans discouragingly, but mumbles out a "Yes," when Josh reiterates his plead.

If the former looks at the singer any differently the next morning, Tyler doesn't seem notice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! If you liked this, you can check out my other TOP fanfics ^^
> 
> Please leave kudos or a review of you enjoyed!
> 
> (The next update will hopefully be up by Friday. Until then, I'll see you later frens!
> 
> Stay safe |-/


	5. Chapter Five

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all are having a sick as frick day today.
> 
> Anyways, here's another chapter! Thank you for waiting!

That was it.

It really was the end for Josh now.

How could he be so stupid as to mess not once, twice, nor thrice?

Actually, he couldn't even keep track of how many times he hit the wrong drum or missed the beat. Usually, watching Tyler sing and run around stage was never really a problem for Josh, as he'd played the songs so many times, he could probably do it half-asleep. Tonight was different.

The atmosphere was weird and odd at the show, despite the crowd going crazy as usual and Tyler singing every note flawlessly. 

The roar of the crowd couldn't take his mind off his sadness, or loneliness, and Josh was scared. This was the first time he truly failed in losing himself to the music.

He's pacing his dressing room nervously after the show, biting his knuckles and letting out quiet whimpers. He almost expects Tyler to crash into his room, demand what the hell was up with his performance, but he doesn't.

Tyler doesn't approach Josh that night, and it's only making the drummer worry more and feel like he'll throw up all over the hotel lobby. 

Michael had told him that Tyler went to his room early, said something about being tired and needing rest. But Josh knows what he's doing.

He's probably lying awake, staring at the ceiling saturated in the dark. He's probably replaying every moment Josh messed up in his head, and wondering of a way to get rid of him.

Josh is a hyperventilating mess of tears at the thought, feet having moved on autopilot and having carried him to his room. He's frantically walking, swaying uneasily, tugging his hair every so often.

The thought of Tyler kicking him out of the band for good, realizing how much better he could do without him, is sending Josh over edge, and he barely makes it into his room before he collapses onto the bed, burying his face in his hands as he lets out heavy sobs that shake his throat. 

He doesn't even realize how loud he's crying until someone knocks on the wall, yells through the thin walls and tells him to keep it down, that he hides under his bed covers, still sweaty and sticky from the show but not bothered enough to care.

The blankets above him seem to smother and sink him further into the mattress as he lets out panicky, little whimpers, wiping at his eyes frantically and smearing the rest of his red makeup across his eyes.

He just hopes he's strangled to death by morning. 

 

•••••••

 

He's a complete mess.

He's hiding in the bathroom of the tour bus (really, the only place with complete privacy), sitting on the toilet lid and rubbing his eyes with the back of his left hand, letting out heaving sobs as his other hand scribbles out messy words.

Tyler went out into the city with Mark, thankfully. Figures he didn't want to be in close proximity to the loser Josh is.

The dark ink on painfully, crisp white paper hurts Josh's eyes, and he uses it as an excuse for not caring when a few tears fall and blur the words, making his already shaky writing nearly indecipherable. 

"Stop crying," he hisses to himself, covering his mouth and choking, rocking back and forth just the slightest as the notepad drops to his lap. 

Two people have already knocked on the door, one of them being Michael.

"Are you okay?" He had asked, and he sounded so worried.

It only made Josh feel worse.

"I'm fine," he gritted out, almost bursting into tears before he whispered a "Please don't let anyone else bother me."

Now, it seemed like he was alone; no one had come for an hour, and Josh felt free, free to open his heart and spill out the poison, let it bleed from him.

The only thing that was holding him back was the knowledge that someone was watching. 

Someone was always watching, always listening, waiting for him to turn into a pathetic, sobbing mess with no self-control, the simplest and easiest victim just awaiting to return death's loving kiss and finally fall asleep for all eternity. 

Josh didn't want that, dear God knew he didn't want to be that victim, but it almost seemed like it was all he could do. 

How else was he expected to feel?

He barely registers the hysterical laugh that pours out of his mouth as the irony seems to hit him in the form blurry sentences staring up at him from snowy paper.

Tyler will never kick him out of the band. 

Josh is beating him to it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Hopefully, by tomorrow, there'll be another update.
> 
> If you enjoyed, please leave kudos/comments, they help me get through the day <333
> 
> Stay alive, everyone |-/


	6. Chapter Six

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you very much for the lovely reviews and waiting!
> 
> Ahem... *attempts to make self sound important and horribly fails* Here's another chapter!

I need to stop being a coward. 

Tyler thinks this over and over, nervously pacing the bunk area with light steps. He'd just gotten back from having coffee with Mark, returning to the bus only to find out that Josh had been locked in the bathroom all day.

He's worried. Of course he is. 

Who wouldn't be? 

But it's the thought of Josh doing something stupid, namely, something that would involve him drowning in the red bathwater or hanging from the shower rack with the curtains tied around his neck that has Tyler knocking on the door, his shaky fists leaving a few solid thumps ringing out into the silence.

"Josh?"

"Go 'way, please," he hears, and curse him up and down if his heart doesn't crack with the way the voice trembles.

"Hey," he mumbles, pressing his palms against the door and leaning closer, his forehead coming in contact with the hard surface in front of him as he closes his eyes, tries to listen for any telltale sounds that would give him an idea of what's happening on the other side.

There's not much he can hear, besides the shaky breathing and the occasional sniffle, the quiet murmurs of his friends in the lounging area of the bus. 

"What's going on, Josh?" he questions so softly he almost wonders if he thought it. 

When nothing answers him back, his hand drops to the door knob, rattles it just a little to find resistance. Of course it's locked.

"Can you open the door?"

It's quiet for a long while, and Tyler's about to repeat himself, feeling the anxiety crawl up his throat.

"Not now," is all he answers.

"Josh, come on," and his tone takes on a pleading quality, the hand wrapped around the cold metal tightening as he rattles it a bit more as if to reiterate his demand. "Open up."

"Ty, n-not now," Josh repeats, and he sounds so completely and utterly broken that Tyler swears it's what fills his eyes with tears.

"Please," he continues, desperation and frustration increasing as he begins knocking softly but firmly on the door. "Come on--"

And like that, it swings open, Tyler's fist nearly hitting Josh in the face, but the drummer's pushing past him silently, never once acknowledging the fact that Tyler almost hit him in favor of ducking his head, stalking off hastily to his bed.

Not today, is all Tyler thinks as he recovers, rushes forward to capture Josh's wrist. 

It's then that he sees the notepad in Josh's hand, and he's staring at it confusedly (since when did he get a notepad? For all he knew, Josh had always bothered writing things on his phone or his laptop. He almost never had a physical copy of anything he created). He doesn't get a chance to see what's written on it though; it's not long before Josh tugs his wrist out of his grasp with a jerk, holding the pad with the writing paper pressed to his chest.

His eyes are stormy, full of irritation and sadness, brown orbs swimming in tears and stabbing Tyler with a knife.

"Leave me alone." 

Without a door separating the two of them, he can hear the roughness in Josh's voice, the characteristic rasp he always developed whenever he cried for too long.

Tyler's already on the verge of tears, and he absolutely hates himself for it.

Josh turns and is about to disappear into his bed before Tyler acts on instinct, his determination to not let Josh disappear again, to figure out what the hell is going on with him fueling his next actions, and he's taking quick, long strides, closing the distance between them.

He feels Josh stiffen when he wraps his arms around him, holds him as tight as he can against his chest as he pleads, "Don't go,"

They stand there for the longest time, with Tyler's face buried in his bandmate's yellow hair, Josh stuck in his vice-like embrace. The singer can tell he's struggling just the slightest bit, trying to break free, but Tyler can't let him. 

He's tired of letting Josh go, thinking he'll revert back to the way he used to be, all crinkly smiles and silvery laughter. He's tired of ignoring Josh's absence, the obvious suffering he's going through. 

Tyler heard (of course he did) the drummer's few accidental slip ups the night before during the show, and he tried to brush it off, tell himself that Josh was just tired and overworked. Because he was. They all were.

But it's obviously much more, if his red-rimmed eyes and his rough voice is anything to go by. Tyler thought he'd been stuck in a mood for the past few weeks, but never once had he heard him cry.

It just worries him all the more.

"Talk to me, please--"

"Stop acting like you care."

There's no dramatic struggling, no resistance against the arms that hold him in place like in the movies. Josh's words aren't pleas, or shouts. 

Just broken shattering of glass falling from the sky to the earth, piercing Tyler's skin and slashing his body with tiny cuts.

He's limp in his arms, still holding himself up but barely enough. He's tired, so tired, and Tyler can tell.

"But I do care," he protests, voice watery and waving. His heart hurts so much to even think that Josh would dare suggest anything different. He swallows his pride and tries to forget every time Josh annoyed him by hiding away and skipping meals, and he, in doing so, realizes that he's the worst and most selfish friend ever. "I'm so worried about you--"

"Wish you'd stop lying," Josh mumbles, the hot tears that splatter against the skin on Tyler's arm burning him in scalding droplets. 

But it doesn't even begin to compare to the way Tyler's heart is set on fire by the other's soft words.

He pulls away, grabs hold of Josh's shoulders and looks him in the eye through a misty blanket blurring the drummer. 

"What are you talking about?" he demands, and tries to keep his voice steady and strong despite the way it cracks at the end.

Josh just stares at him with his sad eyes, his bottom lip being pulled and bitten by a white row of teeth. 

"What's been bothering you?" 

It happens in a split second, Josh's eyes flashing with the anger that fuels him to pull away roughly from Tyler so suddenly it leaves the latter frozen in shock.

"Why don't you ask Jenna?" he spits bitterly. "After all, you tell her everything."

They stare each other down for a moment, their brown eyes clashing in a mixture of confusion, worry, and anger, misery.

"But something tells me she isn't the only one who knows how you really feel about me," is the last, broken statement he lets out before turning hastily on his heel, stalking out of the room and leaving a stricken 28 year old, frozen in one moment of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh Ty, oblivious as always! Josh knows much more than he lets onto.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for reading! Please leave kudos or reviews if you enjoyed!
> 
> Until next week, frens! Stay safe, stay alive! |-/


	7. Chapter Seven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this is so late my frens! I hope you can forgive me :( Unfortunately, the device I've been writing on has been suffering some major technical difficulties, so writing has been a bit hard as of late!
> 
> Anyways, I hope you enjoy!

It's, thankfully, a hotel night, after that incident. Josh is nervous, had been ever since he let himself snap. Maybe he was quitting to save himself the pain from Tyler admitting he didn't need him, but he was sure he'd get both now, with how he acted. 

He's walking sullenly down the hotel halls, trudging towards his room, the bag slung over his shoulder heavy like his heart. He tries to not think of the fact that he hadn't seen Tyler for the rest of the day after he practically spilled the beans and let him know he was onto the singer, but he supposes it's for the best.

It's not long before he hears it. 

"Joshua William Dun!"

Tyler's face is undoubtedly flushed with anger, chest heaving, beads of sweat rolling down the temples of his face.

Josh can't see his best friend yet, but at the same time, the image of how he looks whenever he yells his full name is imprinted on a file in Josh's brain entitled, 'If You Ever See This, Run.'

And that's what Josh is doing. Running.

He listens to his instincts. He's smart like that.

He nearly crashes into Mark as he dashes wildly through the hotel, a nervous/excited/terrified hiccup coming out as he squeaks "Sorry, 'scuse me!" and dashes past his baffled manager.

He runs all the way down the empty corridor to find his room at the very end, unlocking it with frantic fingers, rushing in.

It's only when he gets in his bed and under the starchy sheets, shutting the door with a jerk, that he realizes how out of breath he is, heart beating a 100 miles per minute and brain swimming with fear and anticipation.

Who knew a floral kimono-wearing guy could be so scary?

A silly part of him hopes Tyler won't come in, will have no idea where he's hiding despite the fact that his brain seems to always think his bed is the last place his best friend will look.

When he hears the door slam open, he knows he's dead. So very dead. 

So what if he curses Michael for giving them both keys to each other's rooms?

But the dread only settles fully in when the stomps come nearer and nearer to the bed, stopping just on the side.

Nothing happens for a while, the deafening beats in Josh's ears sounding like thunder, and there was no way that could just be his heart making noise, he thinks.

A hand grips the comforter, and tears it away (to Josh's absolute horror). Lo and behold, the floral kimono-wearing terror is glaring at him with red eyes, murder written all over his rage-contorted face.

Josh yells (no, it definitely didn't sound like the shriek of an eight year old girl) when Tyler grabs him by his t-shirt, drags him out and drops him on the floor.

"Joshua William Dun!" he shouts again when said man tries to scramble away on his clumsy hands and feet, collapsing onto the floor again when Tyler swoops down and holds him there with his body.

Josh puts up a fight, struggles as much as the position will allow him, but there's only so much he can do when the side of his face is pressed against the floor, hands being held behind his back. 

"What were you thinking?" Tyler snarls just beside his ear, and Josh feels a shiver run down his back.

"Nothing!" 

"I saw it."

Like that, all the blood rushes from Josh's face, leaving him a pale ghost.

"What?"

Tyler's hand flies to his back pocket, pulls out a paper ripped away from the notepad Josh stupidly forgot back on the bus, opening and hastily smoothing out its deep folds, a look of concentrated bitterness painting his face. 

"'Tyler," the singer begins reading, spitting his own name like poison, "I know you can't find me here, and I'm sorry. I've been avoiding you for so long, and I know you notice. Everything is just becoming so..."

His voice cracks the slightest on the next word, "...so painful, especially being here with you."

He grows quiet, probably re-skimming the letter over with his eyes, getting lost in the pain of the raw words poured onto the simple paper directly from Josh's mangled heart.

It takes a short while before he's redirecting his attention to the shorter male under him, his angry glare burning into him.

But Josh can see it, as only a true friend can, the complete melancholy bleeding out of his eyes and running down his mouth as he hisses, "What are you thinking about?"

Despite the vague nature of the question, the real purpose and search for answer is clearer than crystal, and Josh screws his eyes shut, just like his mouth that threatens to spill words he'd regret if he allowed it to be free.

"Josh, answer me," Tyler lifts himself just the slightest so he can shake him by the shoulder, and there's clear, almost uncontrolled tremors of panic in his ultimatum. 

Strangely, instead of some sick sensation of victory, Josh feels pangs in his chest when Tyler whispers too brokenly to not notice, "Please tell me this is a joke."

Its then, with an appalling but reserved realization, that the drummer realizes that his best friend's pain has always and will always be his own.

It takes a long while until Josh realizes that he's flipped over now, back pressed against the dusty carpet floors of the hotel room, Tyler straddling him in a very threatening way, what with Josh's shirt wrapped tightly into his fists, brown eyes blazing with anger and fear and sadness only mere inches away from his own.

He shoves the paper in Josh's face, ignoring how the drummer looks pale and sick from having his own words shoved in his face like some ironic weapon, a double-edged sword of sorts.

"This better be a damn prank or so help me--"

Maybe it's the words that set him off, the way Tyler can pretend it's not what it obviously is, that makes Josh feel the fire of anger begin kindling in his chest.

"I don't understand," Josh cuts in, trying so hard to be sharp and harsh, "how you can come in here and threaten me like it's gonna change anything."

Tyler is sure it's his heart in his throat that nearly strangles him.

Josh's hands are rough when they collide with Tyler's shoulders, shoving him off of the drummer. Tyler topples over like a broken toy, and when he looks back up at his best friend (?) with wide eyes, stricken with shock beyond belief, Josh's eyes are dark and angry, burning lasers beams into him for a nearly unbearable moment before he lets out an angry huff, stalking out of the room and to the sliding glass doors leading out to the balcony.

It takes a second for Tyler to pick himself up, pushing himself off from the ground almost clumsily, thanks to the fact that his mind is moving faster than his brain. He's following after Josh quickly but cautiously, heart throbbing as he steps out the door frame, the high winds seeming to blow sharply through him and sending chills up his back.

He's hesitant to approach the drummer, who stands as still as a statue, leaning against the thin, black rail, the only thing separating himself from safety and eternal pain, hands clenched around the slender bar so tightly his knuckles are white.

Tyler advances slowly, tentatively coming to stand beside the still young man.

Josh's once livid face is blank, detached, like he can't feel his heart breaking in his chest with every step Tyler takes, and he simply stares out into the empty night, tries to fascinate himself with the soft, melancholic lights of the city against the navy blanket of night just stories below him.

Another sharp wind blows, biting his skin sharply, and he barely realizes that his snapback was easily blown off his head, dropping to the city below him. 

Golden strands drop to tickle his eyes as he watches it fall further and further, aware of Tyler's ever-watchful eyes glued to his face, trying to gauge his reaction. He's wondering if Josh'll lash out (it was his favorite cap, after all), wonders if he'll throw a tantrum over losing it, but all Tyler gets is the drummer's face schooled into indifference, watching it fall away.

Tyler doesn't see it though; he'll never be able to see or realize that, at that moment, Josh is only thinking about how easy it would be to just descend.

His tears are easily caught at first sight, first brewing in coffee eyes as bubbles of melancholic liquid before making their way down his face and falling to the city below. 

"Josh," Tyler says sorrowfully, and the drummer feels a hand gently clasp his, giving him every opportunity to pull away, though the chance isn't taken.

Instead, a soft breath escapes his lips like a sigh, like the last bit of his anger leaving him (though, in hindsight, there was more in store for that night), and he looks at Tyler, vaguely registering how blurry he is through his tears with how hard he's trying to keep them in.

"Why do you have to do this?" he murmurs sadly, and that's when he pulls away, ignoring the hurt expression on the singer's face as he draws his arms up, crosses them over his chest as if he's trying to defend what remains of his fractured heart.

It kills him, to see the confused, innocent facade Tyler puts up as he asks, "What do you mean?" as if it's all some sick game to him, some twisted form of amusement that has Josh's very soul on the end of the line. It enrages him to no end. He barely even notices how his fists begin tightening, shaking with his anger.

"What do I mean?" he echoes, the poison in his words enough to make Tyler visibly flinch just the smallest bit, though he recovers remarkably, face hardening in his own stubbornness. 

"Yeah," he nods, and he's stepping forward into Josh's space, eyes boring holes into the drummer's own, every step a calculated threat, though the latter isn't backing down now, dropping his shaking fists to his sides and standing steadfast, glaring. "What do you mean?"

It's strange that it's come to this, he thinks absently, as he tilts his head up just the smallest bit to meet stubborn hazel eyes, barely holding himself back from unleashing hell and and punching Tyler in his face. 

A part of him almost gets sick when he realizes he'll never be able to hurt him. Not like that, at least.

"Why don't you stop faking me out for one damn second?" Josh spits, and he sees the shock flash in Tyler's face for a glorious moment before it's gone. Josh isn't done though. "Why don't you drop the act for a second and just let truth have its day?"

"What the hell are you talking about?" the brunet snarled, though there was a subtle glow of fear in his eyes, that filled Josh with a sick sense of satisfaction, as if he'd finally had his enemy cornered.

"You know," Josh says, and tries not to sound so damn heartbroken (though he fails miserably) because he's supposed to be strong while he's accusing him, for gosh's sake. "You know what the hell I'm talking about."

Tyler's adam's apple bobs in his throat as he swallows, and Josh loves it, loves seeing the absolute horror and realization swirl in his eyes despite his indifferent face. 

"Or did I just dream that up?" Josh continues without missing a beat, fueled by the fear overtaking the young man in front of him. "Did I just hear voices when I heard you say how you didn't need me? Or how you would be better off without me?"

"Josh--" Tyler lets out an almost strangled, choked sound, and the regret that contorts his face almost makes the drummer think twice about continuing, but he can't.

He needs Tyler to know.

"Do you know what that's like?" he asks quietly, and he can't help it if his words are full of hurt. "You know I need you. I wouldn't be anything without you."

"I didn't--"

"And for you to say that you don't need me?" Josh takes in a shuddering breath, bites his lip for a second to distract himself from the tears that fill his eyes. "Do you even know how much that hurts?"

"Josh, you know I didn't mean what I said that night," Josh sees it as Tyler trying to defend himself, Tyler sees it as him trying to explain. "You know I get in my moods sometimes.. Half of what I tend to say during those times aren't true unless I'm writing songs."

"You're forgetting you're most brutally honest during those times too." 

"You know I didn't--" and the way Tyler almost choked as he tries to keep a cry from pouring out of his mouth slices Josh's heart apart, and the pain only makes him angrier and sadder as he realizes he'll never be able to not feel his friend's pain. "I wouldn't be here without you. This wouldn't be the same."

"I know you were having a hard time when I met you," Josh says softly. "I know you were struggling to find purpose--"

"And you helped me do that," Tyler cuts in, the both of them shivering as another wind blew through them. 

The drummer stepped away from the singer, ignoring the absolute fear taking over his face, but only stepped closer to the metal rail, gripping cold metal with both hands as he stared back out into the city. 

A stupid part of him hoped Tyler wouldn't see the tears that fell.

"I was struggling too," he recalls, counting each golden city light to try and keep himself grounded in the present. "Not just with purpose, but also my fear...fear that I wouldn't be good enough to keep around."

He feels a hand grip his shoulder, and when the drummer looks at his bandmate, the latter's shaking his head as if pleading him to stop, tears steadily slipping down his face one after another like the raindrops that begin falling from the skies.

"I'm just being dramatic," Josh huffs suddenly, forcing his legs to begin moving in steps, trying to not acknowledge the frantic shuffles following him. "I know I am. But I guess you'll never fully understand how much you hurt me."

"I didn't mean for you to hear," Tyler says shakily, shutting the glass door behind him once they got inside the safety and warmth of the hotel room. "I was just..venting."

"Which means you've been feeling that way, whether you'd like to admit it or not, and you needed to say it out loud before you exploded at me," Josh doesn't turn to face him, instead stands a few feet away from the door. 

The room's cheap heater is pointed directly at him, thawing his frozen skin, but he can't tell the difference, as the cold spreading in his chest and filling the emptiness will be all he feels for a long time.

"I..." Josh swallows down the pain and tries to pretend it doesn't kill him to say these words. "I can't do this right now."

And that's what spurs Tyler into action, albeit quick and frantic, as he practically rushes over to Josh's side, grabs his wrist tightly and holds it to his chest.

"Josh," he says, and it sounds so broken, as Tyler gently places a hand on his cheek, turns his face to look at him.

That's when Josh feels it. The warmth.

But it seems to burn a hole in his cheek, searing his wrist all over. He moans in his throat uncomfortably, tries to pull away but Tyler's strong, so much stronger than he'll ever be, and he grips him even tighter.

He vaguely registers the nails digging into his cheek.

"Please, don't do this," his voice is a contrast to his actions, pleading and sweet unlike the unrelenting and rough hold he has on the drummer as he invades his space once more, head tilted downward as he nuzzles Josh's nose almost lovingly. "Don't leave me."

"I don't--I can't be around you right now," Josh mumbles, and when he tries to move away, Tyler surprisingly lets him, releasing his hand and his face with a crestfallen expression. The tears are back. 

Josh numbly walks over to the door, picks up the traveling bag he didn't even bother to unpack. He's opening the door, ready to leave without another word before Tyler gasps out one final attempt.

"You know I need you, right?" 

Josh pauses, turns to look at him. Maybe it's wishful thinking, but the drummer can see his other half being absolutely fine, thriving without anyone to bring him down. He can still see Tyler playing sold out arenas, still on top of the music charts and completely dominating his entire career just by himself.

The thought makes it easier to cut the strings, as painful as it is.

"I thought you did," Josh answers shakily, as his own words break his heart.

"But I do," Tyler insists, and he's stepping forward again, only stopping when Josh's feet take a cautious step back. Tyler's mouth falls open, and for once in his life, there aren't any words, any way to describe the absolute devastation he feels erupting in his soul. "I do. Please don't leave me."

Josh just stares at him blankly, as if he sees straight through him, yet a part of Tyler thinks he'll break, hopes he'll relent and promise to never leave. He's already making his best friend a thousand promises, already planning out the rest of the night to stay with the yellow-headed boy and show him just how much he needs him, how he'd be completely lost without him.

But all those plans crash and burn, wasted beyond hope, when Josh shakes his head once, then twice, gaze falling to his feet and hand gripping the strap of his bag tightening as he tries not to cry again.

It'd kill him to say goodbye, Josh knows, so he leaves silently, a thousand words unspoken between them and only a broken track of what Tyler had said that fateful night replaying in both of their ears on repeat.

However, Josh pauses just outside of the door frame, the door already half-way shut. When he speaks up, he's soft, as if he hopes Tyler won't hear him. "You wondered if you'd be better off by yourself."

A dry laughter follows after, an agent of irony and bitterness rather than joviality, and both of them can't disregard how the sound injects black into them, destroying their souls like the ink on the paper lying on the floor and the bittersweet, tragic words in the air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ty won't have to wonder now, I guess....
> 
> Does it end here? Does it not?
> 
> Depends on what you all want; so it'd be great if you left a review telling me whether to let this story have this ending or a more alternatively happy ending.
> 
> Thank you for waiting and reading, as always! Kudos and reviews are what I live on! <333


	8. Stitches-Alternate Ending, Part I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for your lovely encouraging reviews; I don't know what I'd do without you all! <33
> 
> Without further ado, another chapter:

One year.

One year since Josh left the band.

Since Tyler stopped producing music.

Since both of their dreams and lives came to a screeching halt.

It's not like they're broke, or quitting the band has left them both drowning in some sort of poverty. 

So what if they've run out of love? So what if they spend every waking moment trying to convince themselves that it's okay to lose friends along the way, and it's okay that they've lost each other? No one has everything.

And yet, only two months after Josh left, after Tyler stopped seeing those coffee eyes and that beautiful smile that made his stomach flip inside out every time it appeared, after the long drought of no shows to play, no roaring crowds to face, having announced the band's break, of being stuck in one place in one frame of time, Tyler was convinced he was dying.

Everything he loved having been ripped out of his hands with only a few damaging, careless words was the cause of his heartache every day, of his dead, dull brown eyes and empty smiles.

But what kills him the most is the fact that it's his fault.

He's accepted it now, having spent the first few weeks trying to convince himself that Josh was just being over-sensitive, that they were both at the end of their emotional ropes due to how many shows they had to play, and maybe, just maybe, he was a little too callous. 

But now he sees it. He understands what it feels like to be unwanted, when his parents, siblings, and friends alike smile at him sympathetically, pitying the boy who was too stupid to keep his mouth shut, too idiotic to stop himself from pouring the poison he'd killed a friendship with. 

The fans were devastated, coming up with a million theories on what could've destroyed the greatest bond of friendship around, but never once did they suspect the destruction had come from within. An empire which had crumbled from the inside, perhaps never to be rebuilt again is what utterly devastates Tyler.

Because it wasn't just a friendship, and it never was.

He'd never believed in people being made for one another; there was always something drawn to the light that could make them incompatible. 

It was only after he met Josh that he'd realized it. His fragile heart he left so often exposed to the entire world could be broken so easily, and Tyler hated it, despised that his best friend could be so naively trusting, so open.

He'd vowed to always protect him when he had the chance, to never let Josh regret his openness, his faith in people. 

What twisted fairytale had Tyler, Josh's only guardian who had promised to shield him at all costs, be the very one who destroyed him?

It's the thought that keeps Tyler awake at night, eyes dry with the reality that he simply had no more tears to shed, having spent them all during the day; only the aching loneliness and regret seeped into his soul and devoured him away like a flame against paper. 

He was never his protector, his best friend, or (dare he suggest) the one person made for Josh, the one who was made to live by his side, until the days began fading and until they reached the end of the line. Together.

He was always the monster, the adversity that stood in the drummer's way; he was the person who blocked his way to greatness with his own selfishness and horror, and maybe that's what fuels Tyler's nightmares, gives fire to the screams and the blood seeping from every corner of his dreams.

"Are you okay, love?" Jenna asks him everyday, and he sees it in her crystal eyes, those beautiful windows that can never lie, the pity she feels for him, knowing fully well that this entire situation was his fault.

It's his words that keep him locked in his house like a caged bird, melting away into his bed like the tears that fall and absorb in his sheets.

He doesn't deserve someone like Jenna, who sits by his side and strokes his hair quietly and wordlessly, watching him with sad, caring eyes as she begs him to just try to get up.

But she won't understand just how much it hurts to open his mouth, the thing that caused him to lose one of the only persons he'd ever, truly loved.

It's morning when he closes his eyes, the warm sunlight pouring in from the window beside his bed falling and hitting his prone figure under the thin sheets, warming his skin. 

He wants to yawn, open his mouth and relieve the urge to stretch out, but he can't. He won't allow himself to.

It's one of the rare days that he finds the strength to get up, swinging his legs over the bed side sluggishly. No matter how much sleep he gets, he's always exhausted by the time he wakes, the flashes of golden or coral hair in his mind and coffee, depthless eyes haunting his every waking moment.

Jenna walks in by the time he convinces himself to stand up, the normal plate of warm pancakes in one hand and a mug of coffee in the other. By her wide ocean eyes, he can tell that she doesn't expect him to be out of bed, much less standing, and her shock is quickly overtaken with joy.

"Hey, love," she greets, her voice a million smiles and eyes sparkling with joy. Of course she's surprised, given his record of letting down people he loved. 

It still hurts to know that she waited and hoped for more of him, just like the way it hurt whenever she dodged his lips in favor of pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek or his forehead.

Never his lips. He'd never dare let himself kiss her anyway; she's still pure and untainted while all that comes from him is venom.

"I'll keep your breakfast on the table, okay?" she inquires softly when she pulls away before hastily adding in a hopeful tone, "I mean, you are coming downstairs...right?"

He nods, feels a spark of happiness flicker when she grins widely, gazes at him for a few moments almost proudly, as if she holding onto this moment of strength on his behalf.

She knows it'll dissolve like cotton candy the next day, but the fact that she still has such high expectations of him, never voicing her disappointment whenever he aims too low and falls, fills Tyler with guilt and an unspoken amount of love for her.

She whisks away out of the bedroom, throwing one last smile his way over her shoulder as she begins disappearing down the hall, leaving the bedroom door open for once.

Tyler tries to smile back, but it aches.

In the shower, he scrubs himself thoughtlessly, soap suds traveling down his soft, pale skin that barely ever saw the light of day, down the porcelain under his feet, swirling around the drain before disappearing in a few pops of bubbles.

He can't focus on much when he gets out, dries himself. It's a battle, putting one foot in front of the other, no matter how short or long the distance is. He stares at himself in the mirror for a moment, deciding to shave. He's careful around his mouth, contrary to what you may believe. Not much mutilation has been done to it despite being his greatest downfall. 

There are times when he thinks of needles, dreams of their shining silver rods piercing skin and shutting trapdoors forever, but he doesn't let himself touch anymore upon the fantasy. 

He has enough self control to shut up now, and he's proud of it, despite the heartbreaking frown that crosses Jenna's mouth whenever she tells him she loves him and he doesn't let himself answer back, his only way of reassuring her by holding her tight in his arms.

He doesn't say anything to anyone anymore; it's just the way life goes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay he feels bad (sorry Ty ily)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, the next update will be next Sunday!
> 
> Please leave a review or kudos if you enjoyed; thank you all!!!
> 
> Stay alive, fren |-/


	9. Stitches-Alternate Ending, Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all so much for waiting; here is the second to last chapter (as I found out that it would be too long if I tried to cram the ending into one chapter).
> 
> Please enjoy!

"Waffle crisps?" 

Tyler shrugs half-heartedly, frowning as he shifted the scarf around his neck and covering half of his face. Itchy against his lips, he's sure he'd have the skin of his lips raw by the time he took the coarse material off, but it wasn't any less than he deserved, he supposes.

He follows Jenna like a ghost, pushing the cart blankly as he trails after her aisle through aisle. He hates to admit that he loathes whenever she drags him out, but she doesn't trust him to be alone, especially on days like these.

Rain always made Tyler think.

Thinking always led down a dark path that he got lost in for weeks at a time.

Maybe Jenna's right in him needing to step out more, but why would someone do that when they could just stay locked up in their rooms, sleeping away the rest of their miserable lives?

At least it isn't crowded, his mind murmurs, when he comes to another dangerously sudden halt just a few inches from Jenna, who's talking with the butcher behind the counter and asking about some cut of fish or something.

He sighs inwardly, glancing around himself almost helplessly, looking for a distraction.

Normally there'd be a kid somewhere throwing an amusing tantrum, or someone knocking over a tower of canned tomatoes or something to put his attention on, but today's different.

Because the first thing that catches his eye isn't a red-faced, screaming toddler, or a clumsy lady.

It's platinum.

A man with soft platinum curls, unmistakable soft Cupid's bow of rose, coffee eyes. Wide, open. All-seeing.

Tyler feels the floor give out from under him, and he's suddenly floating.

It's such a blissful, torturous moments; to see those eyes he'd been missing so much is both a relief and a stab to his heart.

He can't even hear Jenna's distant voice, the chatter of the P.A. above him calling someone to the checkout station, the general commotion of the store.

It's like the whole world is on mute, just like him.

It's only when he feels Jenna's gentle hand wrap around his arm that he's pulled back to harsh reality, like a bucket of ice water being thrown over him.

He's brought back to the real world, where Tyler and Josh haven't spoken for years, much less seen each other, but now, they're standing only a few paces away from one another, both of them very much the same but so very different, staring at one another like the opposite one was some sort of miracle.

And it's common knowledge, there's nothing more frightening or horrific than a miracle.

That's what sends Tyler running, leaving Jenna and Josh and everything, into the sharp cold of a spring morning. His fingers are shaking when he's crossing the parking lot, when he reaches into his pocket to pull out his keys to the car.

He's barely able to unlock it with how much he's shaking, with how blurry his vision suddenly is.

It's only a second before he realizes there are tears in his eyes, and he tries to tell himself that he imagined him. His tortured mind conjured up Josh like a coping mechanism, that's all he--it was.

The opposite door opens a few moments later, the car shifts with a light weight, and Jenna's blue eyes tell him different. They're so sad, so vey blue. And Tyler knows they can't lie.

He's letting out a broken, hysteric laugh before he knows it, covering his mouth.

There aren't any words, nothing to say about how he's feeling.

All he knows is that his soul is shattering again, and he's losing control once more.

He doubles over as he laughs, tears pouring down his face and dripping onto the dashboard as he laughs, and laughs, and laughs.

Because it all hurts so much.

"Darling..." Jenna's so hesitant, so soft as she touches his shoulder, eyes filling with unshed tears because it's so difficult to see Tyler in so much pain. "Don't you think you should...talk to him--?"

He opens his mouth to speak, but his throat twists in on itself in protest, and he's left to shake his head frantically as he continues to let his sorrow pour out in laughter.

Jenna's quiet for five minutes, waiting (hoping), he'll change his mind. But when it becomes clear that Tyler's gone at that moment, lost in a sea of pain, just trying to find something to anchor himself to, she sighs, grabs his hand, and begins driving. 

He's drained by the time they get home.

 

••••••¥•••

 

"Josh?"

"Jenna?" she hears him exhale, voice attempting to be light but unable to shake off the dark undertone. "Hey..."

"Hi," Jenna pauses, staring at the rip in her jeans and playing with a loose strand of sky blue denim. She feels so small, and whether it's because she's sitting on a white stool in the kitchen with her knees pulled up to her chin or because she can hear Tyler sobbing in the bathroom, she doesn't know.

Josh's always handled silence well though, fills it with the usual small talk, which Jenna's grateful for. He asks how she is ("I've been better"), how her family is ("They're alright").

He's hesitant, she can tell, but not at all confused. Josh obviously knows why she called, just as well as she herself does, but she still can't put it into words, can't tell him what she's hoping to get from him.

It's only when there's a long pause that she realizes she hasn't answered whatever his last inquiry was, and she holds her breath at the complete silence on the other line. If not for the soft breathing, Jenna wouldn't have been able to tell if he hung up or not.

"Missed you so much, Jen," he mumbles softly, as if he's afraid to admit it to her, to himself. It makes her heart ache, with the thought of what used to be such a strong bond between him, her, and Tyler. It's only at that moment that she realizes to what extent she misses what they had.

"I miss you too, Joshie," she sighs, and hears him do the same.

It takes a second to swallow the lump in her throat, take a deep breath. She has to do this; if not for Tyler, then for herself and Josh.

"Hey, what're you doing in Columbus anyway?"

A second passes. Two, three, four--

"Visiting family, Jen," he explains softly. 

And they're both quiet.

"How's...how's Ty?"

The lump is back, the mist in her eyes. Just the thought of how much suffering he's been through the past year, his complete silence, his empty eyes, sleepless nights when Jenna wondered if he'd ever get better has her letting out a sob into her palm, tears running warm tracks down her cheeks. 

"Hey, hey, I'm sorry," Josh says on the other side, voice slightly panicked. "Don't cry--"

"It's--it's so bad, Josh," she interrupts shakily, voice caught up her in sobs. "Tyler's hurting so much and it's killing me."

Josh is silent, and she can tell just by his breathing patterns that he's trying not to cry, because she's learned the warning signs, witnessed them so many times for what seems like thousands of years ago. 

"He hasn't spoken, Josh," she sniffs, holding back more tears before she fully lets go. "Ever since you left, he hasn't said a word to anyone.. Not even to me...."

A deliberating sigh is let out, the simple and quiet quality of the thick air between them choking her.

"Is it okay if I come over?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Jenna very very much.
> 
> Do you likey? If you did, please drop some kudos or a review, I'd really really appreciate it!!
> 
> Also, check out my other stories if you'd like to read more but until then, baii!!! ^^
> 
> (Also, I might have a one shot of the Roommate AU's coming out next Saturday or possibly even sooner! Be sure to look out for that if you'd want to read!)


	10. Stitches-Alternate Ending, Part III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is so long overdue. I'm really sorry about the wait, frens. Life has been a mess these past few weeks, and finding time to write has become a real struggle.
> 
> Anyways, please proceed with caution. Some self-harm is described.

Another burning sob rips out of his throat, but Tyler keeps his lips pressed together tight, fingers fumbling with the thin needle between his fingers and the thick black thread in his hands.

He's sure Jenna will understand, will let him borrow her needle.

By some miracle, he's able to take control of his shaking hands just long enough to thread it, though it's somehow nearly impossible to even tie a small knot at the end.

But it's only because Tyler can't stop crying.

Why can't he stop? he wonders as he presses the needle against the bottom of his lip.

He stares at himself in the mirror. Eyes red and full of liquid that pours down his blotchy face, he looks just as much of the monster he is.

It's quick work, but it's painful. 

It's so painful, piercing his lips over and over and dragging the suddenly rough thread through small holes in his flesh, and he chokes on his moans of pain and his sobs.

Blood streams down his chin by the time it's over, and with a shaky hand, he ties off the thread and cuts the remaining of it. 

His trembling hands drops the bloody needle into the sink, and he nearly begins hyperventilating at the sight of his crimson fingers. 

The worse it yet to come however, waiting in the glass just in front of him. When he looks up, he wants to gasp in pain, in horror. 

Tyler's never seen himself so revolting.

But as he continues to stare at his reflection, he begins to feel a sick sense of appreciation for the thread pierced into his bloody lips, covering each centimeter with black string, pressing his lips together like a muzzle on a wild, diseased animal. 

The stitches remind him of what kind of monster he let loose.

Only then does he hear the frantic knocking on the door, Jenna's worried voice slightly muffled through the door.

"Ty, open up please."

She sounds scared already; what would she think if she saw him?

Another string of hurried beats of her knuckles rap against the door, and Tyler knows he can't keep her out long (she'll see him like this, eventually) and he walks over with shaky legs, trying not to pay attention to the way his fingers slide and slip with blood against the smooth, metal knob of the door.

When he opens, he swears he can see Jenna's soul crack in her blue eyes.  
   
   
••••••••

   
'What am I doing?' is his first thought.

He kills the engine, twists the keys and pulls it out. He stares blankly at the house just to his left through the tinted glass, his practical second home he hasn't seen in over a year.

Undeniable spikes of nervousness and anxiety make his stomach tie up into knots and tumble around, and he lets out a shaky breath, runs a hand over his face.

All those months of trying to force himself to let Tyler go (and never succeeding) and it all led up to this?

A part of him knew when he'd left Tyler that they wouldn't last too long without one another; the two of them were too close to be able to be completely separate humans again. 

In truth, the past year had been a tumultuous sea for Josh, full of raging emotions and heart ache. It was undoubtedly the worst year of his life, like he was trying to bleed out some sort of drug or sweat out some sort of permanent poison.

But Tyler wasn't something that could be cut out so easily, and he never was.

There were nights (too many, in his opinion) when he'd be wide awake, cast in the complete blackness, crying with his sister or younger brother on the line, only because he missed Tyler.

He missed him so fucking much.  
But now that he was here, sitting in silence and drowning in his thoughts, Tyler so very close and so far all at once, he picks at his nails, chews on his bottom lip nervously. 

Things wouldn't go back to the way they were before, and Josh strangely accepted that, if not in a heavy-hearted, pained way.   
But he knew that they could both try to close off whatever open wounds they still bore; maybe if they just talked it out, they'd be able to be free, walk away from the situation and each other.

The pang that shoots through his soul with that thought is what compels him to open the door, step out of his car.

He wants to be free.

He needs to be.

There's no other way that they could even hope to let go of one another if they didn't have some sort of closure, some form of resolution that what they had before was too far gone to even hope to get back. 

He still feels his heart beating in his throat when he pauses just in front of the white door, knocks tentatively.  
   
A minutes passes, then another. 

Josh knocks again, a bit harder this time, soothing his anxious heart with the foolish thought that no one could be home. Surely they would've opened the door by now?

He's about to turn and leave when the door suddenly swings open in a nearly violent manner, forcing him to suddenly jump back and avoid getting hit by the wooden panel.

"Oh my gosh," Jenna mumbles when she sees him, her eyes wide and terrified, a hand clamped over her mouth.

Josh barely registers the crimson painting her fingertips when she surges forward, her thin body completely tense and frozen as she collapses into him. He holds her up, arms readily collecting Jenna and keeping her steady as the tears begin leaking from her eyes.

"Josh--he--" she chokes, can't get a word out that he'd understand, and he gently moves her into the house, runs his hand up and down her back soothingly.

"It's okay," he assures in a wavering tone, steering her into the living room and helping her sit on the creme-colored sofa by the window. It's then that he sees the blood on her hands, the terrified blaze of black in her crystal eyes.

"Jenna--"

Quick footsteps rush into the room, effectively cutting the drummer off. 

It all happens in a beat of a heart, in a blink of an eye.

Tyler stops dead in his tracks when his cold, hazel eyes meet with warm, coffee ones.

Josh sees it, the fear bloom in his eyes like flowers in the spring, the way his hands at his sides clench and unclench almost nervously.

Jenna lets out a sob as she covers her mouth once more, the sight of her husband proving to be all-too much for her fragile state of mind.

It takes too long for Josh to notice his lips, captured and swallowed wholly by the eyes that keep him captive with their impenetrable stare. A thousand wars are fought in his mind and his heart before he's able to finally break away.

All breath in his oxygen easily dissipates when his gaze falls to Tyler's cherry lips.

They still bleed steadily, tiny streams of ruby slipping down his chin and dripping onto the black shirt he's wearing.

Josh can hardly stop himself from getting sick at the sight, the thought of how much the thread must hurt his best friend.

Minutes, hours, years pass during this silent confrontation, Tyler's gaze flickering from Josh to Jenna, a visible shade of betrayal clouding over his face.

It's almost like Josh can see the heavy layers of dust that covers the room around them in the centuries that seem to pass, feel how his bones begin to crack and ache like his soul.

In his eyes, Tyler's the same.

He's the same twenty one year old he was when Josh met him, struggling and trying to find a purpose, suffering over the millions of wars being waged in his mind with the only comfort of being able to speak about them, sing about them.

Now that his lips were sewn shut, closed like an abomination, Pandora's box, a bleeding trapdoor, all purpose seems to be drained out of him, and Josh can see it in the way his shoulders are hunched over like those of a corpse, in the way his eyes seem to be drained and dead. 

The amount of agony and suffering Tyler presents in only his face is more than a painting of his blood ever would, more than a song filled with lines from a suicide note or a goodbye letter ever would.

Nothing destroys Josh more.

Tyler takes the first sharp breath in centuries, but he's quick to turn on his heels, flees from the room just as quickly as he came.

Josh quickly stands, a faint whisper of his best friend's name leaving his lips before he follows after him, ignores the burning and sudden stiffness in his joints, as if the angels and demons were trying to stop him. 

The halls filled with pictures and paintings seem to widen and expand, darkening with each step he takes, Tyler's silhouette the only illuminated figure in his vision. It's as if he's walking through a tunnel, the walls seeming to become more closed in on him the farther Tyler gets, spurring him into moving his aching bones quicker despite the lactic acid searing his insides.

A marathon on Jupiter is a shadow of the race Josh runs to get to his best friend, and he catches the door just before it slams on him, jamming his foot in between it and it's frame. A shock of pain travels up him when Tyler tries to shut it close, his whole body pressed against the white wooden panel as he keeps a resilient pressure on it.

"Ty," Josh gasps out, voice strained with the crushing sensation in his foot as he presses his hands against the door, pushes against it only to be met with an unrelenting force. "Please open."

More weight is pushed onto the door, forcing a whimper out of Josh's mouth as the pain begins burning throughout his whole leg as more pressure is put on his foot, and he shoves a hand in between the small crack in the door, trying to force it open.

They both push against one another for a minute or two, and when it becomes clear that neither Tyler nor Josh will win if they continue on with their shoving war, the unexpected happens.

The unstoppable force suddenly dissipates like honey in scalding water, and Josh can barely cry out when he's suddenly projected forward by his weight, tumbling through the door and into the room.

Tyler's face is hard, stern, when he looks up, but the trembling of his chin gives away the pain in his soul, the liquid in his eyes shining in the afternoon light. 

He points his finger towards the door, arm outstretched completely and showing how thin he is.

'Leave,' his entire being seems to scream, and Josh stands slowly, heart throbbing with the way Tyler visibly tries so hard to not break down.

He takes a step towards him, and Tyler mirrors him oppositely by stepping back, a determined look crossing over his face. 

"Ty," Josh says softly, and a stream of liquid spilling from his left eye is all that answers him, speaking louder than a million words could. "Please..."

He shakes his head, runs the back of his hand across his eyes and points at the door once more. 

Josh swallows the lump in his throat hard, tries not to think of how familiar this feels, to be shut off and thrown away like he isn't wanted.

He's needed though.

And maybe that's what makes him stay, makes him step closer towards Tyler and clasp his hand in his own gently.

He ignores the way Tyler tries to tug away half-heartedly, his burning glare searing into Josh as the sliver-haired boy jerks him roughly and tugs him into his arms.

He feels warm drops seep into the thin shirt he's wearing, and he absently wonders if it's the tears rolling down Tyler's cheeks or the blood streaming slowly but steadily from his mouth. 

"You're so stupid," Josh mumbles as he tries to hold back the tears when Tyler begins to shake in his arms, standing limp in his hold and crying, bleeding. "Why are you so stupid, Tyler?"

He presses a hand against his mouth as he sobs straight from his soul, trembling.

He breaks away suddenly, and Josh is ready to force him back into his arms when Tyler moves towards his bed, sits on the edge as he opens the drawer to his bedside table, pulling out a notepad and a pen from it.

Josh stands there for a moment, watches Tyler scribble furiously. A pit in his stomach opens up when he's reminded of the way his best friend used to write when he slipped into his depression, and his heart aches when he sees how full the notebook is, the writing so small he could fit the entire dictionary in his small pages.

It's only when Tyler holds out the notebook towards Josh that he gingerly moves forward, takes it in his hands when it's thrusted towards him.

'Please leave me,' is all it says, and Josh frowns, looks at Tyler who's staring at the wall blankly.

"No, Tyler," he answers as the writing pad is ripped out of his hands suddenly, palms earning slim slits from the sharp paper. He doesn't complain.

A few moments later, the pad is shoved in his hands once again.

'If you don't leave, I'll call the police.'

"Dude," Josh interjects, irritation bleeding into his words as he glares at Tyler, unable to admit that his best friend's returning of his heated look hurts him. "Can you stop acting like a five year old for a few seconds so I can just talk to you?"

Tyler lets out a frustrated grunt and grabs his notebook, hurling it against the wall harshly before he buries his face in his hands, humming in irritation as he tugs the tips of his hair. 

"Is this what we've become?" Josh inquires sharper than he intends. "First, we're inseparable for years, and now we're not even talking to one another?"

Tyler glances at him, an incredulous yet annoyed look on his face as if to say, 'Are you stupid?' as he gestures towards his shut, bleeding mouth.

He only succeeds in further irking the silver-haired boy, and he stands, hands covering his face as he shouts out, "Oh my fucking gosh!"

Tyler crosses his arms defensively, glaring at the stranger pacing back and forth in front of him.

He can't ignore the way Josh's fingers begin fumbling together in such a familiar, nervous way as he walks, and it stabs Tyler with a blade of nostalgia.

"You're a coward," is the first thing Josh spits when he finally stops, turning his glowered expression on Tyler as he points an accusatory finger at him. "You've only pulled this--this stunt," he mimics a stitching movement in the air, "so you wouldn't have to face me and talk to me like a decent human being."

Tyler twitches in anger, the implication of his action piercing his tender heart. He remains still though, stares angrily and burns Josh's eyes with his own.

How much Tyler wishes he hated him would never be fathomed, not by a human heart.

"I'm so done with you," Josh spits, though they can both clearly hear the empty undertone in his venomous words.

It doesn't hurt any less.

The silence that seems to stretch on forever, the one Tyler's become so accustomed to, breaks Josh within a few short minutes, and he inhales sharply, unwanted tears springing and filling his eyes as he stares at Tyler's impassive face.

"Tyler, please," and his voice breaks on the last word with his hopelessness. 

He breathes in sharply once more, pressing his palm over his mouth as he tries to get ahold of his emotions before he says anything more.

"Please," he whispers so softly into his hand that it's almost unheard, unintelligible through the flesh covering his mouth. "I need to talk to you."

A moment is unnecessary, unneeded, but Tyler takes it anyway, the stream of tears spilling from Josh's eyes making him wish to save the other from the inevitable heartbreak.

Strength and courage builds in him, thought it's slow, painful, as he approaches Josh silently, grabs his arm gently and begins leading him out.

Josh panics, in a strangely calm way, his physical form not fighting against Tyler's obvious wishes though his mind racks, races as he begins spluttering.

"Please, please, no," every step out of the house seems to physically pain them both, Tyler keeping his eyes steady on the door coming in sight and Josh's teeth sunk into his bottom lip. His coffee eyes glisten as he looks at his best friend pleadingly. "Don't make me leave. Don't...please."

Jenna sits up from the couch, red-rimmed, blue crystal eyes wide as she tries to approach them, but Tyler holds up a hand, all but dragging the former drummer out the last few steps before pushing him out the door.

He collapses to the wood of the white porch below him, sobbing and looking every bit as lost as a duckling without its mother, as broken as a toy that had been thrown repeatedly to the ground by the owner it was entrusted to.

Tyler steps out, shuts the door behind him. He ignores the urge to help Josh up from his knees, no matter how badly he just wants to touch him again, feel his best friend and remember that he's still alive, still breathing when he'd been dead to him for so long.

Moments pass, the sun rays spilling over Josh and making him into a glowing angel that had fallen from heaven, his tears streams of starlight and every breath dusted with the stars. He finds his strength to stand after a notable pause, his palms digging into his eyes and smearing his tears as he simply cries.

"Don't let me go," Josh mumbles, and the brown-haired boy's heart clenches as he remembers the first time he said it.

Six years ago, in the solitude of a van, frozen in the night with the both of them huddled close together for the little warmth they had. 

"You can't let me go without you."

Four years, when Tyler was bound to set sail for the tropics, the love of his life waiting for him on the boat and the other planted on the ground of the mainland.

Cruises were never Josh's thing, anyway.

"It hurts to be without you."

Two years ago, during a break from touring.

"I don't know if I can do this anymore."

One year.

Before Josh left him.

Tyler simply shakes his head, ignoring the way Josh's sweet lips begin wobbling as he tries not to begin sobbing again.

'I can't,' his body seems to scream as well as his mind, and Tyler is sure that his silver-headed boy can hear, with the way his breath catches in his throat.

There's not much he can do, a simple shake of his head as he tries not to break down, not in front on Josh. He's too much of a burden already, he doesn't need him to deal with his tears as well as his own brokenness. 

His feet move on their own, taking small steps back until he's on the opposite side of the threshold. Josh stares at him, unbreathing, seemingly frozen in one space of time.

Drops of rain in his sparkling eyes, ashen face, he's never looked more beautiful, more human, and if this is the last time he ever sees Josh, he won't mind; his face is imprinted on his mind, on the backs of his eyelids.

A single tear drops from Tyler's eyes to the floor, like a silent goodbye.

The end they've both anticipated is on the horizon, so close.

But is it too soon?

The door creaks as it closes, gentle, slowly. He sees him for as long as he can, studies every inch of his beautiful skin, his angelic face, before he can't see him any longer.

Now, as Tyler lies in his wooden box, he reminisces of the last day he ever saw his one love, and wonders how he never checked to see if Josh ever took another breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That was supposed to be happy you say? Whoops
> 
> Wh a t h av e I B e co m e
> 
> I 'm s o r r y


End file.
